


Fooling Yourself

by AlluringInsanity



Category: White Collar
Genre: Drug Abuse, Gen, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, triggering content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:31:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlluringInsanity/pseuds/AlluringInsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal's facade begins to falter as he is forced to deal with a sudden avalanche of emotions that he had spent the past years burying. As a result he begins to slip into an extremely depressive state, and to cope he develops various unhealthy methods. Will Peter notice in time or will it be too late for him to intervene and stop Neal from destroying himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding Silence

_~ I awoke only to find my lungs empty; throughout the night it seems that I stop breathing. Now my dreams are nothing like they were meant to be, they are nothing but empty, hollow shells that makes me afraid to sleep because of what haunts me – such as living with the uncertainty that I'll never find the exact right words to say, which would completely explain just how, I'm breaking down. ~_  
  


* * *

_  
The first thing that I noticed was that it was pitch black; I couldn't see anything at all. Oh god what was going on? Where was I? I looked around but all that was there was darkness, miles and miles of darkness stretched on in front of me. I waved my hand in front of my face and was instantly disappointed at the results; I couldn't make out the outline of my own hand 5cm away from my face. Oh god was I blind?! That had to be it, after everything that had happened I'd now lost my sight. I can't believe this could-_

_My thoughts came crashing to a halt as a light bulb above me dimly lit up a small amount of the room I was standing in, in front of me was a large wooden mirror, the sight in front of me made me wish that I was blind. Staring back at me was a small four year old boy with piercing blue eyes rimmed with redness and undried tears. His brown hair was sticking out in all directions and his torso and hands were covered in blood._

_Ripping my vision away from the mirror I slowly lifted my shaking hands up to my face and noticed that they were stained with blood, I had blood all over my body and my hands, oh god what had happened. Whose blood was this and why was I covered in it, and more importantly where on earth was I and why was I a small child again?!_

" _N-Neal..." a voice behind me cried out. I spun my small, four year old self around to face the location of where the noise had just come from._

" _H-hello?" I managed to stutter out, "Who's there?" it was then I noticed that there was another light at the end of what looked to be a long hallway. The light was flickering off and on allowing the room to only briefly be covered in light before the darkness once again consumed it. It was as if the two were battling it out over who got to consume the room fully._

_I slowly made my way down to the end of the hallway and paused, whoever was calling for me was in the room in front of me, I looked down and paled as I noticed that there was more blood near the door way that lead into the room. I took a deep breath and held it as I waited for the light to flicker back on before forcing myself to step inside the room. As soon as I stepped inside the darkness had already once again consumed the room. I was terrified as I waited for the light to flicker back on; it was taking longer than usual, had the darkness finally conquered the light in the battle for dominance over the room? I shakily let out the breath I was holding and realized that the light didn't seem to be turning back on anytime soon. This was a mistake; a bad idea. I didn't like standing in the dark, alone, in a room with a pool of blood on the floor. I wanted to run and that's what I did, I turned around and ran, I got about half a metre before I hit the door and bounced onto the hard wooden floor. I placed my hands out beside me to steady myself and regretted the decision immediately as they came into contact with warm, sticky liquid. I only hoped to God that it was not blood._

_Firstly though why was the door shut? I never shut the door? Was someone else out there, was this all a game? Where was my mum and Ellen, what was going on?! Where was all the blood coming from!? It was at that moment the light conquered the darkness and the room became filled with the warm glow from the light bulb. I instantly regretted the light winning as my eyes came into contact with the frozen ones of those of the dead body lying on the floor one foot in front of me in what looked to be another pool of blood._

" _This is your fault." A deep voice came from behind me that was evidently laced with hatred, I felt the air beside my face move as an arm shot out from behind me headed straight for my mouth, before the strange man behind me could clasp his palm around my mouth I managed to scream one final word._

* * *

"Ellen!" he screamed into the empty bedroom, body bolting upright so that he was sitting in his bed with one hand running through his now sweat dampened hair, pushing some stray strands out of his eyes which could now fully see everything that was in front of him. He was back in his apartment; it was all just another one of his nightmares.

Neal clenched his eyes shut and shook his head as if he was trying to shake off the nightmare that had just occurred and the thoughts that accompanied it also. He'd been having these nightmares on and off for the past two weeks, with no idea as to what it was that had triggered them as it had been roughly a month since Ellen's death. He'd had a nightmare or two straight after her death, but never like this, never to this extent, never this bad. He brushed some more stray strands of hair from his eyes and glanced over at his alarm clock, the fluorescent green numbers stated that it was 6:42am. He had managed to get two hours of sleep having just fallen asleep after four AM.

Peter would be expecting him at the office in a little over two hours, today was one of the days that Neal had to get to work by his own means. Peter and he had created a schedule where some days he would get picked up by Peter himself, and others he would have to get to work by his own means of transport – today was one of those days. He was grateful of that fact, as much as he hated using public transport he didn't really feel that up for the usual  _happy_ morning chatter between the two.

Pushing the damp covers off of himself he made his way into his dimly lit bathroom, the only light that illuminated the room was the amount that streamed in from the small window in the corner. He couldn't help but cringe at the simple thought of light illuminating a room; he stood in front of the small mirror and again cringed at another simple object. It was insane how much just thinking about light, or a mirror could affect him. However, looking back into the mirror he also cringed at his own reflection that was staring back at him.

_I really do look terrible._

The dark circles under his blue eyes seemed to be getting a shade darker as the days rolled on. It was a clear sign that he wasn't getting the right amount of sleep that he needed thanks to the ever persistent nightmares that haunted his dreams. His eyes that were once full of life and mischief were now dull and empty. The darkening circles underneath just complemented the look. His hair was sticking out in various odd ways from the obvious tussle he had while he was in bed  _dreaming_. His cheekbones had become more prominent also from the lack of food that he was consuming.

Sighing, he turned the knob on the tap for the cold water and cupped his palms underneath the faucet and once an adequate amount of the water had gathered, he bobbed his head down towards his hands and splashed the freezing water onto his face. If the nightmare hadn't completely awoken him, the freezing cold water now had.

He stared back at his reflection once again as he watched the water droplets trickle down his brow and run down his cheeks. As the droplets were running down his cheeks he noticed how similar it looked to as if he was crying. He had long ago stopped crying – it was as if there were basically no more tears that he could physically muster up and cry out. Everything inside just felt empty and numb to him now. But watching the water droplets made him remember the times that he had cried over the ordeal. The tears he cried when Ellen had died, the tears he cried when Kate had died, the tears that he had cried throughout his prison sentence – the times in there that he had wished he had died. The tears he had cried when he first started having the nightmares, those nights he woke up in a panic, his heart trying to escape his chest and his throat raw from crying. The tears that he had cried when he realized that he was never enough and would never get answers.

Remembering these times when he had felt emotion, made him feel a twinge of sadness. The smallest bit of hope that he had left was relieved to find that he at least could still feel some emotion – even if it was only one emotion, and the one he wanted to feel the least, not everything was numb. He wanted to feel happiness again, he wanted to feel alive. But he knew that was a lost cause. Those feelings were long gone, and he had a strong suspicion that they were never coming back again.

He sighed again as his mind wandered back to the nightmare that he had just had. He remembered what the unknown voice said to him,  _this was his fault._ Ellen's death, Kate's death – they were all his fault. The people who meant the most to him, the people he was closest to kept dying because of him. He was a curse, a problem, he caused innocent people's deaths – he was a monster. They didn't deserve to die, nobody deserved to die because of him. He couldn't let anybody else die because of his very existence. He had to distance himself from Mozzie, June, and especially Peter. He couldn't have them dying or being hurt simply because they were friends with him. He couldn't handle that happening because of him; he could not handle another death on his hands. His palms could not be laced with another person's blood again.

Shaking himself out of his train of thought he decided that a nice, cold shower would do some good right about now. He slipped his t-shirt over his head, but paused midway with his arms still in the air above his head, shirt still in their grasp. His reflection caught his eye, he wasn't surprised to notice the outline of his ribcage beginning to be more prominent. He knew he should eat more, but frankly he wasn't that hungry and to be honest he really just couldn't be bothered with the task of eating. Removing the rest of his clothing he stepped into the shower, turned the cold water on and let it wash over his body. He closed his eyes and relaxed, leaning his head back against the cold tiled wall.

After a good 20 minutes in the shower he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist, and shook his head to expel any excess water off his hair, the remaining water that stayed attached to his locks of hair dribbled down his back, the effect causing a shiver to run up his spine. He made his way into his wardrobe and started rummaging around for some clothes to wear; grabbing his newly found attire he began to get dressed for work. Once he was dressed he headed into the kitchen to make some much needed coffee.

Glancing up at the clock on the wall as he walked into the kitchen he noticed that it was 7:15am, he was expected at the federal plaza for work in just less than an hour now. He opted to catch a cab this morning rather than the bus as he wasn't really in the mood to be around a bunch of people just yet. Neal was normally considered to be a people person, he was referred to as the outgoing one, he was extremely well with people, but as of lately he felt more and more like being in solitude and staying away from human contact. This was completely against everything a con-man should be. He wondered if his colleagues had noticed this sudden change in his demeanour, the withdrawal from socializing with others, the lack of charming others, the outgoing, charming Neal Caffrey was reclining from human contact. But then again, he was also a con artist, if he wanted them to notice these changes, they would, and if he didn't want them to notice, then there's no way they could see through his cunning acts. He tried his hardest to make it look like everything was going well in the world of Neal Caffrey. He entered that building and exited it every day with those fake smiles plastered across his face. Nobody would ever suspect that they fell almost immediately once he entered the elevator carriage's privacy and were replaced with a blank, empty expression.

After making his much needed cup of coffee he nursed the cup in his hand, after the cold shower he'd just had the warmth from the cup was refreshing. He walked out onto his balcony and stared down at the silent streets below him as he watched the trees gently move from the slight breeze. There were a lot of people in sight, as it was now past 7am. He wondered how they felt, what was happening in all of these strangers lives – were they happy, sad, single, married, widowed? He realized then just how insignificant his own existence was, all the people in his life that cared about him were dead. If he was to die, would anybody stop and notice?

Walking back inside after 10 minutes of standing there, he placed his empty cup of coffee into the sink and rinsed it out, leaving the cup in the sink to dry. He contemplated making something to eat, but decided against it as he felt nauseous just thinking about having to consume food. He really needed to start eating more; his clothes now practically were hanging off of him. He knew that this was something he wouldn't be able to con his way out of his colleagues noticing, he didn't think he could lie his way out of explaining his rapidly deteriorating weight. He used to weigh a good solid 150lbs, but he was fairly certain that was into the low 140s, possibly even the high 130s now. He just hoped that his colleagues knew him well enough to not question him about it, or bring the topic up with him in general. The last thing he wanted was Peter asking him if he had anorexia or some other form of eating disorder. At that thought he silently chucked to himself, that could be an interesting conversation. He didn't deliberately starve himself; he had no problems with his weight he knew he was already on the thin side. He just wasn't hungry as of lately.

It was now just past 7:30 and he was due for work in half an hour. Outwardly sighing he grabbed his phone and wallet that were resting on the table and slid them into his inside suit pocket, grabbing his black fedora on his way out, flipping it up onto his head. June was out of town this week visiting her grandchildren so the place was empty except for the odd maid or two that would do their duties and then not be seen or heard from for the rest of the day. This was fine by Neal, as solitude was beginning to be one of his all time new favourite activities.

Walking outside he hailed down a cab and gave the driver the address to the federal plaza, it was only a 5 minute drive in this traffic so Neal would be getting to work early, he hoped that didn't raise too many suspicions, but honestly he couldn't bear to be alone in his apartment by himself right now. All that was flashing through his mind was the memories of the  _dream_ he had experienced last night, and right now, that was the last thing that he wanted to dwell on. He instantly thought back to a quote he had said to Mozzie once when they were discussing Mozzie's hatred for people who self-loathed.

" _The most dramatic conflicts are perhaps those that take place not between two men, but those that take place between a man and himself, where the arena of conflict is that of a solitary mind."_ Neal wasn't against people self-loathing like Mozzie, but he never thought he'd ever imagine himself doing it, but as of lately there seemed to be a first for everything.

His thoughts were interrupted by the cab driver telling him that the fair came to $12.40 and that he was now at his destination. He looked out of the window and noticed that they were outside the plaza, glancing at the clock it was now 7:42am, that wasn't too early he deduced. Handing over the money to the driver he climbed out of the vehicle and headed towards the entrance to the building. Heading straight towards the elevators, once inside he mentally prepared himself for when he exited and plastered that well exercised fake smile across his face.

"Morning Caffrey" Diana was the first person to greet him as she was walking past the elevators just as he had stepped out, "Peter's in the conference room with a new case." With that she walked off to get some requested files for Peter before also heading towards the conference room herself.

"Morning Diana, and great, I just love new cases, as long as it's not mortgage fraud." Neal cheerily said through a smile as he headed up towards the conference room where he could already see Peter, Jones and the few others that belonged to the  _Harvard Crew._  Sighing deeply he walked up the stairs and entered into the conference room where Peter was mid sentence explaining what the new case was.

"... so he's basically making this seem like a private club with exclusive membership high interest offers, when a new member joins they pay the joining fee of $2500 and they are then asked to get two other people outside of the company to join as well with a joining fee of $6000 this is mandatory and must be done to secure their membership, they are also told that the more members they can get to join in, the higher their rewards would be as a sign of gratitude. The new members joining fee is significantly higher than the cost of the employee's, and with lower interest rewards. These two newcomers are then also asked to find two new members each to join in with an increased fee of $9,500 now and so on and so forth with every newcomer, two new comers are asked to join at an increasingly high price, and offered declining interest rates."

"So it's basically an H-Y-I-P?" Neal asked leaning back in his chair, already seemingly bored of this case. It was more investment fraud, another pyramid scheme, a high-yield investment program by some poor company who probably had only embezzled a few thousand dollars in total before the FBI caught on. They never had any interesting cases anymore, it had been ages since they had a good art forgery or a high profile theft.

"Morning to you to Neal, and well basically yes, except, as you weren't here when I was first explaining. This case is extremely sensitive, and not many details have been released as of yet, and any information that has been disclosed needs to be kept private as the man in charge is believed to be Cameron Pierson, CEO of-"

"Cameron Pierson? The multimillion dollar CEO of Nitrac Insurance?" Neal asked, the shock was evident in his voice as he decided to change his mind on this being referred to as boring. "That's the case? We're investigating fraudulent claims against Nitrac Insurance's CEO? Oh this just got so much more interesting." He said trying to cover up a smile as he admired the work Pierson had done, this was a significantly large case.

Peter noticed the way Neal's eyes had lit up when he mentioned the case was regarding Cameron Pierson, one of the most wealthy men in New York, and Nitrac Insurance was one of the most popular insurance companies that there was also. Peter also however noticed how dull looking Neal's eyes were previously before Pierson's name was mentioned, but he pushed that thought into the back corners of his mind.

"Yes Neal, I thought you'd enjoy this case, that Cameron Pierson poses a problem though, it's going to be harder to get evidence on such a high profile man, and it's also going to be harder to just casually go undercover, get hired and record some evidence. Pierson only hires certain people, not based on their skill or their degrees, he chooses randomly as I've heard-" Peter was cut off mid sentence.

"No, he may look like he chooses randomly but there's always a reason behind it. You don't get that rich, that quick and have such a successful scam based purely on luck. I'll go undercover, using one of my trusty aliases and see if I can buy in and work my way up, that's never failed before has it?" Neal suggested.

"You just want to meet the man. Add him to your little con artist fan club or something." Diana commented, whilst laughing as she also had noticed that Neal seemed to get interested when Pierson was mentioned.

"Fan club? Really Diana? It's more like an exclusive cult." Jones joked, adding his two cents into the conversation, Neal's interest in the case was not lost on anybody in the room, even the Harvard crew.

"Really guys I'm hurt. I'm just helping out... but you know, if you have a better idea I'm mor-" it was Neal's turn to get interrupted this time.

"No, Neal you can go undercover, we'll allocate you some money so that you can buy in, does Nick Halden work for you?" Peter asked, resulting in ending his team's harmless banter between each other but not before adding his final bit "and besides, we all know that it's probably some type of underground gang." Earning a chuckle out of Diana and Jones.

"Nick Halden works fine, and you guys, you're all so cruel." Neal placed his hand over his heart, as he feigned being hurt by that comment. "When and how do I meet Pierson?"

"Well we have an employee of Nitrac Insurance, Jason Brenner, who is the one who brought these accusations to our attention in the first place. He hasn't got any interested buyers yet who are willing to buy some  _membership_ , so we're going to have you as his first buyer. You're going to buy in, and start bringing in many more buyers under you, fake buyers of course, but Pierson will see you as a good game player, and we're hoping that this leads to at least a discussion between the two of you and possibly even warranting you getting hired as an employee so he can keep this amount of buyers coming in from you." Peter explained.

"Oh well this sounds fun." Neal plastered that well exercised smile on his face, at the beginning the case had sounded interesting and he was looking forward to meeting Pierson initially, but it was as if someone had flicked a switch in his brain and just drained the entire amount of excitement he felt regarding the case. All Neal wanted now was for it to be over and to go back home, lock himself in his apartment away from everybody and sleep. His drastic mood changes were beginning to happen more and more frequently, and as much as Neal wanted to deny it, they were starting to concern him.  
  


* * *

  
This was not what Neal was expecting when he arrived at the address Jason was driving him to, looking over at Jason who seemed to be equally confused as to why they were here. Taking a deep breath he tore his vision from Jason back to the run down hall, which looked like it had once been a sporting facility.

"Is this the right address?" Neal asked, glancing back to Jason who was climbing out of the vehicle. "I thought you were taking me to meet Mr. Pierson?" he asked, climbing out of the car to go and join Jason in front of the building.

"Ah, you must be Nick Halden." A voice from behind him bellowed, causing him to turn around and see a small Asian man heading towards him from inside of the building. "I've been waiting for Jason here to finally bring in a buyer, took him long enough though. I'm Mr. Cheng and I'm one of Mr. Pierson's assistants, to be given a meeting with Mr. Pierson you must first earn the right to that meeting. He doesn't just agree to speak to anybody that asks."

" _Earn the meeting? What on earth does that mean, where's Neal GPS say he's at?" Peter asked, as he, Jones and Diana were all sitting in the van listening intently to Neal's conversation through his FBI issued watch._

" _I'm not entirely sure boss, but his location is at the corner of Jefferson and 3_ _rd_ _avenue, it looks to be a hall, uh yes the Hillson Recreational Centre, it closed down about 7 months ago." Jones added, also confused as to what was happening._

"I'm sorry? Earn it?" Neal asked, intrigued but also highly confused as to what was going on.

"Yes. Earn it. There's another Nitrac employee in the building already, with an interested buyer he wants to join in also, but you see unfortunately because they both waited longer than they should have to find a person to buy in, only one of them gets to buy in and the employee who's participant loses, also loses some of those lovely rewards they have access to due to their stupidity and lack of motivation to find someone to sign in. Mr. Pierson doesn't like to be kept waiting. To decide who wins and who loses you get to participate in one of Mr. Pierson's favourite sports – fencing. " Mr Cheng said, walking into the building, leaving the two men standing behind outside.

"Fencing? Are you serious? A little heads up would have been nice!" Neal groaned, to nobody in particular. This was not something that he wanted to be doing now, fencing took co-ordination, agility and quick reflexes all of which Neal possessed highly, but with his current situation he didn't think he'd be able to do as well as needed. His lack of sleep had severely affected his co-ordination and reflexes.

"Can you fence?" Jason asked, worried now about the outcome since his own job benefits were on the line.

"I hope so." Neal sighed and walked into the building.

" _Well for once he doesn't sound confident." Diana commented, it was unusual to hear Neal unsure on something. "Neal Caffrey not confident is not a good sign at all." She sighed, she could practically count the amount of times Caffrey was unconfident in his abilities on one hand._

" _I'm sure he'll do fine, it's fencing, and he's fenced before." Peter said, reassuring himself and the others, he couldn't help but notice the defeated tone in Neal's voice when he spoke though. He hoped that it was just his imagination; Neal didn't give up that easy no matter what it was. The con man never backed down from a challenge, it wasn't in his nature._

Once he had entered the building he immediately started taking in his surroundings, the walls were a light blue colour and they contained various framed photographs of different sports, there were a few baseball photos, some rowing photos and a  _lot_  of fencing photos. The frames surrounding the photos had about a millimetre of dust sitting on top of them, and the glass covering the photos was also a dusty shade. It didn't look like Pierson regularly felt the need to clean this place.

Neal heard the door behind him open, assuming that it was Jason finally catching up to him he kept walking to the end of the corridor. There was a large room in which he could see three other men standing off to the side, he had almost reached the doorway when the light bulb in the room in front of him began flickering off and on, before settling back to lighting up the room with the dull glow. It was in that moment that his breath caught in his throat and he visibly paled.

He was no longer standing in the hallway of the sporting centre, he was back in  _that house_ and there was blood, so much blood everywhere, on him, on the floors, on the body – the body – oh god the body – Ellen. He heard a scream ring out in is ears as the images assaulted his mind.

"Mr Halden?" Jason asked, placing an arm on the young man's shoulder. He had walking behind Neal when suddenly he had stopped and just stood there with a frozen expression on his face. If he didn't know any better he swore the younger man in front of him was going into some type of shock. "Are you okay?"

It was only a matter of seconds before his stoic expression fell across his face and he shook himself out of his reverie. "I'm fine, sorry I just remembered something that I had forgotten to do, it's nothing." And with that his favourite con man smile was placed across his face and he had entered the room where the others were waiting.

" _What's wrong with Neal?" Diana asked._

" _I'm not sure but you can practically feel the fear that was in his voice." Jones commented, also noticing how off his game Neal seemed to be today._

" _I'm sure it's nothing, he knows the safe word to get us in there. Besides it's Neal, I'm sure he's more than capable at handing himself." Peter reassured his team members, although there was no denying that when Neal had last spoke his voice was in fact laced with fear._

"Ah, Mr Halden and Mr Brenner, about time I thought that you two had forfeited. Meet Mr Lavern and his interested buyer Mr. Stonem." Mr Cheng laughed before picking up a Sabre and handing it to Neal. "You may need this if you want to win."

"Where do we get changed?" Neal asked, looking down at the weapon in his hand, he swore for a second that his mind was playing tricks on him and that the blade look like it was dipped in blood. Closing his eyes tightly he re-opened them to see that he was holding an ordinary Sabre, nothing unusual about it at all.

"Oh you see that's the thing. In this match, there's no protective clothing. You can't get too injured if you know what you're doing and if your opponent also knows what they're doing. It adds some interest into what I find to be a boring sport, of course Mr Pierson doesn't agree with that, but we need our investors to be ruthless and this is the best way to prove to me, and Mr Pierson that you're willing to stop at nothing to get what you want." Mr. Cheng added another one of his disturbing laughs and backed up to where there was a worn out lounge chair. "Let the games begin."

"What d-" was all Neal managed to get out before a blade was whipped in front of his face, caught momentarily off guard he stumbled backwards. "This is-" again he was cut off by the weapon coming into contact with his arm, the impact stung a little with there be knowing protective padding.

"One point to Mr. Stonem" bellowed Mr Cheng's voice, "you may want to actually try if you want to win Mr Halden."

Neal couldn't even think straight as he swung the sabre at the man in front of him, desperately trying to score and block hits simultaneously. That damn light in the corner kept flickering on and off and every time that it flickered off he swore that his opponent's blade was covered in blood. He kept swinging and swinging, the scores were pretty even with him being on five points and Stonem being on six. He had a fair chance of winning this, well at least that was until he took his eyes off his opponent for a split second and they fell on what looked to be that of a body lying in the corner of the room.

Immediately stepping back and lowering his weapon at the sight in front of him he became an easy target and was hit in the torso, registering another point to Mr Stonem. Blinking his eyes furiously he noticed that whatever was there a split second ago no longer was there now. His mind was playing tricks on him and he couldn't handle it, the lack of sleep he had over the past few weeks was insane and it was now catching up on him. He took in a shaky breath and noticed just how much his hands were shaking. There was no way he could win this tournament, he didn't even think he could hold on to the weapon that was in his grasp for much longer. Everything around him was tormenting him, everywhere he looked he would be reminded of the nightmares he kept on having, he kept on seeing blood everywhere and if he didn't know any better he swore he was about to have a panic attack – Neal Caffrey did not have panic attacks.

It was like he was drowning in emotions, he couldn't think straight, his head was pounding he just needed everything around him to stop twirling and mixing the colours in his vision together, he needed to stop seeing things that reminded him of that day, of his dreams – when suddenly it all stopped and he gasped in what he thought was shock, or was it pain. Everything stood still, the colours stopped dancing, his heart slowed down to a normal rhythm and the light bulb in the room had stopped flickering. Everything was normal once again in his mind. His emotions were no longer threatening to drown him and he could think straight for the first time in the past hour.

Except he was still hallucinating blood on his opponents sabre. Closing his eyes he wished it to all go away.

"Mr Halden are you all right?" his opponent asked, lowering his sabre to the ground.

"I-I'm fine." Neal answered honestly, unsure of why he was so calm, he was shocked to notice that when he looked at his opponent he was still hallucinating blood until he noticed that everyone had moved in closer towards him and were staring at his forearm. Looking down at his arm he noticed that the sleeve of his white dress shirt had been slit, and blood was beginning to circle around the slit in his shirt.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to cut your arm." Mr Stonem said, he honestly was sorry for injuring the young con man. Especially since he didn't look to be feeling well when he was in the middle of the fight to start with.

However all Neal could do was glance down at his now injured arm, this is what had brought him out of his subconscious, this is what had brought him out of his horrid thoughts and hallucinations. This is what caused everything to stop.

**_Pain._ **

_He found silence in the pain._


	2. Failure by Design

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I initially started writing this in 2012 - 5 years ago! I was 17 at the time and surprisingly a better writer than what I am now at 22 so that's strange. I'm still at university, initially was studying a double degree of law and psychology for two years, switched to pharmacy for a year, then switched to biomedical science for a year. Have just switched back to a double of law and political science. Decided to binge watch all of White Collar again on Netflix and have once again fell in love with the show and characters, and have decided that if people are still interested in this, I will continue writing it.
> 
> I go back to university in a month, and once I sort my timetable out I'll have a day of the week where I'll dedicate to writing new chapters and uploading them. So hopefully I'll update regularly either once a week or once a fortnight, depending on my schedule and how much writers block I have.

* * *

  _~ I wish that I was too dead to care, if indeed I cared at all. I never had a voice to protest, so you just fed me shit to digest. I wish I had a reason; my flaws are open season, for this I gave up trying. You don’t need to bother, I don’t need to be, I’ll keep slipping farther, but once I hold on... I won’t let go until it bleeds ~_

* * *

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to cut your arm." Mr Stonem said, he honestly was sorry for injuring the young con man, especially since he didn't look to be feeling too well when he was in the middle of the fight to start with.

However all Neal could do was glance down at his now injured arm, this is what had brought him out of his subconscious, this is what had brought him out of his horrid thoughts and hallucinations. This is what caused everything to stop.

“No it’s fine; it’s nothing but a slight scratch.” Neal said whilst shrugging one shoulder, still confused as to why his body had reacted the way that it had to the sudden onslaught of physical pain.

“Well it looks like we have a winner of today’s match. Congratulations Mr Stonem, I’ll set up a meeting with you in the near future to discuss the terms of this purchase you have secured. I’m sorry Mr Halden, but you did not manage to qualify for this investment opportunity at this point in time, oh and also Jason, Mr Pierson would like to have a word with you once you get back to the office.” Mr Cheng didn’t seem to want to stay in the run down sporting facility any longer than he had to as he ushered the participants down the hallway whilst saying his goodbyes to them, before heading towards his own vehicle.  

“So what happens now?” Jason asked once out of earshot of the other three men.

“I honestly don’t have the slightest clue.” Neal sighed, subconsciously running a hand through his hair. He had no idea where they were going to go from here, he had blown their one opportunity that they had to get exclusive access to what happened during an investment buy in, and Neal was sure that Peter was not going to be happy with the fact that they had missed out on that opportunity.

 _Peter’s going to be so disappointed in me, I really let him and the others down._ The thought flashed through his mind, he really was dreading facing Peter after his pathetic attempt at securing them this opportunity. Neal didn’t do well with failure, especially when it was in relation to the bureau and reflected badly on Peter.

“Well I have a meeting with Mr Pierson apparently, so I’ll go to that and hopefully it’s nothing too bad that he wants to talk to me about, and then afterwards I’ll drop by again and go from there. Do you have a way back? Because I should really get going now he doesn’t like to be kept waiting for long...” Jason mumbled whilst looking at the ground, it was obvious from his demeanour that he was not at all looking forward to his meeting with Cameron Pierson, much the same as Neal wasn’t looking forward to meeting back up with Peter, Jones and Diana. They had both respectively let their bosses down just then in that sporting facility.  

“Yeah I’ve got a lift roughly a block away, good luck with your meeting, I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned about.” Neal pattered the man on the forearm and proceeded to walk off towards where he knew the rest of the team were parked waiting for his return in the van.

It was only about a five minute walk to where the van was parked but Neal was grateful for the silence, and to be by himself for a few minutes, even if it was only for a short amount of time. He was still extremely confused as to what had just taken place back in the recreational centre, from the unconventional fencing match – to his losing of the fencing match, and the reasons as to why he had lost the match. He was fairly certain that he could have won that match hands down if it wasn’t for the absurd images that were assaulting his vision every few seconds. What really concerned Neal was that there was absolutely no solid explanation as to why he was suddenly hallucinating things that weren’t there and especially why they were such horrid hallucinations.

 He just hoped that he could chalk the bizarre images up to his lack of sleep, and it was just that his brain wasn’t coping with the small amount of sleep he was trying to function on and not that his current mental state was slowly deteriorating on him. He desperately hoped that he could get a solid amount of sleep tonight and that tomorrow when he woke up the images were erased out of his mind and he could get back on track.

Before he knew it he had approached the van where the rest of his team were waiting, taking a deep breath he braced himself for the onslaught he believed he was about to receive from Peter and opened the van’s door to reveal Peter inches away from his face, looking slightly on edge.

“Neal! Are you alright, we heard that you got injured?” was the first thing that Peter Burke said to the younger man as he stepped inside of the van. Peter didn’t however notice the colour that drained from Neal’s face as his demeanour changed as a reaction to such an innocent question.

“Uh yeah, oh it’s nothing, just a slight scratch. Nothing to worry about.” Neal said, flashing his best con-man smile that he could muster. This was the last topic that he wanted to discuss right now, as he still didn’t understand things concerning the matter himself.

“Let me take a look.” Peter said moving to grab at Neal’s arm to take a better look at the damage that was inflicted, but Neal had jerked back before Peter could reach a hold of him.

“It’s fine Peter!” Neal’s tone came out more hostile than he had intended it to, and he immediately regretted it as he watched Peter’s reaction, and even Jones’ and Diana’s reaction to his sudden hostility towards them. “It’s just a slight scratch; we have more pressing issues at hand then this.” He quickly added, hoping that they wouldn’t read too much into his current attitude towards the topic.

“Caffrey’s got a point, what are we going to do now about Pierson?” Diana asked, sensing Neal’s aversion to the previous discussion and deciding it would be best for everyone to just drop it, unknowing to the real reason behind Neal’s distaste for the conversation, she chalked his unusual reactions up to the fact that he was probably brooding over the fact that he had lost the fencing competition, and then even managed to get himself injured in the process. She was sure that Neal Caffrey didn’t lose often, and it wasn’t something that Neal Caffrey would be proud of either, and if there was one thing that Neal didn’t like discussing, it was his mistakes – the few ones that there were, but still his mistakes were a conversation he didn’t like to partake in.

“I’m not entirely sure, right now we’ll just have to wait until Jason Brenner has had his meeting with Pierson and see where things can move on from there.” Peter said, also deciding to drop the topic that Neal obviously wanted no part in. “We’ll head back to the office and go over the documents that we received and see if we can find a way to somehow get the upper hand in the situation.”

* * *

Once back at the federal plaza the rest of the team had headed straight to the conference room to mull over the documents and see if there was anything that they had missed the first time reading through them. Neal however had quickly excused himself and headed straight towards the men’s restrooms.

Once inside his eyes quickly scanned the area and he was relieved to find that nobody else was in there. Letting out an exhausted sigh he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, his face had gotten significantly paler since this morning which was probably due to the physical exertion he had just put on his body, the fact that he had little to no sleep the night before did not help with his re-cooperation and the fact that he wasn’t eating much probably didn’t help either. Running his hands through his hair he attempted to tame the curls that were now falling in every direction due to the fencing stunt, one he was as satisfied as he could get with his current appearance he glanced down just under his left shoulder blade.

His dress shirt was stained a deep maroon colour around the edges of where it had been sliced by the sabre, and the edges of the material were sticking to the now dried blood that was around the wound. Taking a deep breath he unbuttoned his shirt and removed the material from his body and placed it onto the counter top. Turning his body slightly so he could get a better glance at the cut in the mirror he noticed how small the injury really was, it wasn’t deep and it didn’t look to be anything more than an animal scratch. Neal however was still confused as to how such a small injury had such a large impact on his mental and physical state, however before he could continue his train of thought the door to the restroom had opened.

“Neal we really could use your help out-” Peter abruptly stopped mid sentence as he realized that Neal was standing there shirtless examining his injured arm. “Oh how’s the arm going?” he asked stepping closer to the young con man, hoping that this time Neal would allow him to examine his injury for himself.

Neal sighed and tipped his head back in exasperation, “Peter I’m fine, it’s a slight scratch, nothing but an over-sized paper cut. It doesn’t even hurt. I’m more upset over the fact that one of my favourite shirts had to get ruined in the process. I don’t even have a spare shirt here at the moment.”

“If it’s such an issue you can always wear one of the FBI windbreakers over your shirt, no one has to see that you got attacked by a fencing sword.” Peter said, trying to hide the chuckle that was threatening to escape.

“You really trust me wearing one of your precious FBI windbreakers? Wow Peter, I’m actually honoured.” Neal laughed, slipping on his torn shirt to shield the injury from Peter’s prying eyes. “That’d actually be great though. I really don’t want to walk around all day looking like a wild animal attacked me.”

“As long as you don’t impersonate an agent whilst wearing it then it is fine by me, now come on I’ll go find you one and then we’ll need your help reviewing these files.” Peter said over his shoulder as he was already walking out of the restroom to collect a windbreaker for Neal to wear over his destroyed shirt.

Following Peter out of the restrooms Neal headed towards the conference room where he could see Diana and Jones reading through the files that they had on Cameron Pierson and Nitrac Insurance. This was one case that Neal couldn’t wait for to hurry up and end, to start with it had sounded like it would be something he would look forward to, and he had to admit it still did interest him with Cameron Pierson being involved but so far nothing had been going according to plan regarding the whole ordeal, and Neal hated when the cases they worked on didn’t go as planned – especially when it was due to one of his own faults.

Walking into the conference room he slid into the chair at the end of the table and grabbed one of the files that were resting on the table in front of him. Jones and Diana hadn’t even looked up at him as he had entered the room, as they were that engrossed in reading the files that they had in front of them.

It was only a matter of minutes before Peter walked back into the conference room, windbreaker in tow. “Here, now remember Neal no impersonating a federal officer.” Peter laughed whilst handing the jacket over to the younger man who eagerly slipped it over his shoulders.

“You couldn’t have found a smaller size, what is this a size large?” Neal said whilst adjusting the windbreaker, it hanged loosely off of his shoulders and gave off the impression of a small child playing dress up in his father’s work uniform – not that of one of the most cunning con-men in New York.

“Pretty certain Caffrey that it’s the smallest they make, you’re just ridiculously slim.” Diana said, leaning back in her chair and placing her folder down on the table to take a look at Neal wearing the jacket. “It actually makes you look smaller than you already are, if that is even possible. Do you even consume any food?” Diana laughed taking in Neal’s appearance.

“I have a high metabolism.” Neal said grumpily, sitting back down and grabbing a hold of one of the files and scanning through it, signalling to them that this was a conversation he did not wish to continue.

Peter however didn’t fail to notice that Diana was right when she mentioned that Neal was ridiculously slim, he had always had a small frame but as of lately Peter couldn’t help but notice that it looked like the younger man was losing weight at what seemed to be a drastically fast pace. The jacket that he had given Neal had been the smallest size they had, as Diana had mentioned, but it practically hung off of Neal’s shoulders and thus really highlighted just how much weight it seemed the young man had lost over the past few weeks. Peter knew that the last thing Neal would want to do would be to talk about the topic, that however didn’t mean that Peter was going to just drop the subject and forget he had noticed how thin Neal was getting. He wouldn’t mention it today, or even tomorrow, but he promised himself that he would keep an eye on Neal and if it looked like he lost anymore weight that he couldn’t afford to lose, Peter would confront him about it.

Getting back to the task on hand Peter sat down across from Neal at the table and grabbed one of the files that detailed the recent incomes of Nitrac employees in the past six months and began scanning through the documents with the rest of his team. It had only been roughly just over an hour before they all got to suddenly stop reading through the documents in front of them that were now becoming a bunch of blurry words to Neal as Jason Brenner had entered the FBI plaza – and he was not looking happy.

“Agent Burke! I need a word with you.” Jason yelled, marching up the steps two at a time and heading towards the conference room. The man’s face was laced with tension, and Neal swore that he could see the vein in the man’s temple pulsating from where he sat across the room.

“Jason, certainly, come this way with me into my office.” Peter ushered the distraught man into his office away from the rest of his team and from the rest of the floor’s agents. “What seems to be the problem Jason?”

“I got fired because of this!” Jason all but screamed at the older agent.

“I’m sorry, what? You got fired? Why?” Peter asked, generously confused as to what happened and what possessed Cameron Pierson to fire one of his employees so suddenly, was he onto their investigation?

“Apparently I took too long finding people to buy in and so my investment was cancelled, and so was my employment status and it’s all because your man lost that god damn fencing tournament!” Jason yelled, pointing his finger in the general direction of the conference room where Neal was located.

As if on cue, Neal walked right into Peter’s office, having little to no regard to the meeting that Peter was currently holding in there. “Peter! I found-” he began before getting abruptly cut off.

“You! You got me fired!”Jason screamed at the young con man, turning around to face Neal who was standing in the middle of the doorway startled at Jason’s sudden outburst towards him.

“Wait what, I got you fired? How does that work out?” Neal asked raising an eyebrow at the man who seemed to be just on the verge of having a breakdown. “I didn’t do anything?”

“That’s the point! You didn’t do anything! You never won that god damn fencing tournament, and Pierson got angry at me for taking so long to get someone to buy in and then I got fired because I failed to prove my potential to him after taking too long and then having you go in there and make me look like a god damn fool!” Jason yelled throwing his arms up in exasperation, that breakdown was not as far off as it previously was.

_Nice going there Neal, you cost the poor man his job because of your pathetic excuse of fencing. What even was that back there, I’m sure that a three year old child could have beaten you easily! You really are exceptional at screwing people’s lives up and ruining everything you come into contact with. You should really get a medal for your ability at fucking things up._

“Jason I didn’t mean to get you fired, I’m sure we can work out a way for you to get your job back and for our investigation to continue into Nitrac Insurance.” Neal said pushing the unwanted intrusive thoughts into the far back corners of his mind, now was not the time or the place for him to dwell on his own self loathing problems.

“NO! You don’t understand, I don’t want you to keep investigating, I don’t care anymore! You have already ruined my job and my life, I don’t care what you do now but I want no part in it anymore!” Jason yelled running his hands through his hair. “I never should have brought this to you in the first place!”

“Jason we can-” Neal was abruptly cut off mid sentence.

“Neal get out.” Peter said, voice void of all emotion and leaving no room for argument.

“What? Peter I-” confusion was evidently laced throughout Neal’s voice.

“Neal, now. Get out.” Once again Peter’s voice remained void of any hint of emotion, and his face was expressionless and completely unreadable to the young con-man.

Surprised at Peter’s sudden attitude towards him, he followed out Peter’s request and walked out of the agent’s office leaving the two men in there to continue their heated discussion without his presence. Not wanting to go back into the conference room and work on a case that he was so obviously not wanted on Neal decided that he would head home early for the day instead, he ignored the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that wouldn’t go across well with Peter who already seemed to be annoyed at him. Peter could be annoyed with him all he wanted, Neal knew when his presence wasn’t wanted and he didn’t plan on sticking around the office to be yelled at by Peter for something obscure like breathing too much oxygen.

Walking down the stairs from Peter’s office he headed towards the elevators ignoring the fact that some of the agent’s at their desks were glancing at him, he wasn’t sure if it was due to the outburst they probably just saw happen in Peter’s office or the fact that he was still dressed as one of them; wearing their FBI windbreaker. Whatever it was he honestly didn’t care, he just wanted to get out of the damned building and go home.

Once inside the elevator he pressed the button for the ground floor, let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the elevator’s wall. Neal was extremely confused as to what had just happened in there.

_Is he honestly mad at me for losing that stupid fencing competition? Does he honestly blame me as well for Jason losing his job? There’s no way I could have known that losing the competition would affect Jason badly as well as make us lose a solid opportunity to gain access into Pierson’s exclusive club. Fuck. Peter is blaming this on me, the reason for failing this case is going to be handed to me on a damn silver platter with a go directly to jail card and do not collect your 200,000. This isn’t my damn fault. I didn’t purposely fuck this up. God dammit._

Closing his eyes tightly Neal blocked out his surroundings and rested his head against the elevator wall until he reached the ground floor and practically ran out of the elevator. All he wanted was to get home and go to sleep and hopefully everything would be back to normal – no more nightmares, no more hallucinations, no more intrusive thoughts and no more screwing up important aspects of the cases he was working on.

Hailing down a cab he gave the driver the address to June’s house and before he knew it the cab was pulling up out the front of the building that he now called his home, he handed the driver the amount that the fee was and walked into his home.

 _Home._ Was this really his home? A home was somewhere you felt safe, secure and loved. Somewhere that was a refuge to the harsh reality of the outside world, somewhere you could go when you just wanted to forget that anything outside of the four walls that surrounded you existed. Somewhere where nothing mattered except for the people that you shared that home with. But who were these people? Who could he rely on when he really needed someone the most?

Sure there was June, she and him had gotten close since he had moved in, but he didn’t want to have to put any more added pressure on her than he already did just by being a convicted felon living in her guest room. There was always Mozzie, he was always there for him when got in trouble, when he needed a lawyer, when he needed advice on what to do next, when he needed help planning, but would Mozzie be there for him when he got in trouble with something more complex than the law, than some criminal they were chasing after, would Mozzie be there when his own walls he built around himself caved in on him and made him a prisoner of his own mind. Would Mozzie be there to help him then, help him free himself from the walls that confined him inside of his own subconscious?

What about Peter, he used to think that Peter would be there for him no matter what happened and what he did. But as of lately, he had noticed Peter getting more and more distant towards him, and even though that’s what he wanted so as to not unintentionally cause the older man harm – it hurt.  It really fucking hurt. Things were going downhill fast and Neal didn’t want to keep lying to himself, things weren’t okay in the world of Neal Caffrey – but when you had nobody to turn to, nobody to help you, the appearance that you created where everything was going fine was the only security you had, the only hope you had of surviving against everything that was thrown at you.

Walking inside he noticed that the maids were nowhere to be seen and that they must have already finished their duties and clocked off for the day early. June was still away visiting her relatives and wouldn’t be back until the end of the week – the house was quite and Neal could finally have some much needed solitude.

Once upstairs inside of his room he took off the FBI windbreaker and threw it across the backs of one of the chairs at his kitchen table, the bold yellow letters stared back at him. What was he doing working with the FBI, could he really trust Peter, could an FBI agent actually become _friends_ with a convicted felon that he was responsible for sending to prison in the first place or was Neal just kidding himself to think that Peter actually liked him and wasn’t just putting up with him. Letting out a sigh he unbuttoned his ruined dress shirt and tossed it on the couch, kicked off his shoes and walked over to his bed and plopped his body down on it not even bothering to change out of his dress slacks he closed his eyes and willed himself to fall asleep. 

The intrusive thoughts that had been creeping up all day were starting to sneak back up on him again and he didn’t really want to have to deal with sitting by himself wallowing in his own self pity. The clock on the wall revealed that it was just after 2pm, right now would be a perfect time for him to try and catch up on the sleep that he so desperately needed to be able to continue functioning at a normal level and not arouse any suspicions with his co-workers, especially from Peter.

_Peter._

_You know that he only puts up with you because you are helping his success rate at catching criminals. You’re fooling yourself if you think that he thinks of you as anything more than a pathetic excuse of a criminal who got caught – twice. You’re nothing to him, you’re nothing to nobody. The only thing you are good at is turning on the people who are just like you, ruining their lives just like yours was ruined. This job works out well for you, you get to screw people’s lives up and send them to jail – because you know how fun that was. All you’re ever good for is ruining people’s lives. You ruined Kate’s, you ruined Ellen’s, you ruined Peter’s and now you ruined a guy’s life that you just met. It only took you what, 5 hours to fuck that man’s life up? Good work Neal._

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut he rolled over and willed for everything in his mind to shut up, all he wanted was silence and to be able to get one night of peaceful sleep, but that seemed to be all too much to ask for as the thoughts that were bugging him all day were threatening to overflow inside of his mind.

_I wonder how long it will take before Peter realizes that you’re too much of a liability, soon you’ll start causing law suits with all the lives that you’re going to keep fucking up. Every wrong move that you make Neal; you’re one step closer to going back to prison. I’m sure you’ll like that; I mean it was so much fun in there with –_

“Shut up!” Neal yelled to the empty apartment, rolling onto his side he attempted to bury his face into his pillow but gasped at the sudden sting of pain he felt shoot up his left arm.

The bed sheet had rubbed against the scrape on his forearm and caused a slight prickling sensation of pain to tingle down his left arm at the unwanted contact. It wasn’t just the pain that had caused him to gasp however; it was the quietness that was accompanied with the pain he felt. When the pain was shooting down his arm the thoughts that were racing through his mind came to a halt, they just stopped abruptly as his mind focused on the pain – and the pain alone. It didn’t last long though as the pain quickly subsided and the unwanted feelings, emotions and intrusive thoughts all came crashing back down, and assaulted his mind once again.

An idea quickly formed in the young con man’s mind and before he knew what he was doing he grasped his palm tightly around his forearm where the fencing wound was located and squeezed his hand against the wound. The pressure on the wound caused a slightly higher level of pain to be released then before and just like magic the thoughts in his mind were gone, and all that was left was quietness for a few split seconds as his mind focused on the pain, until once again, the pain had subsided seconds later and the uncomfortable feelings and emotions he so desperately wanted to get rid of crept their way back up inside of him, this time at a much stronger force then previously– it seemed that they didn’t like being repetitively squashed down and ignored.

Neal needed the thoughts to be gone for longer than a few seconds; he needed the pain to not subside as quickly so that he would have enough time to fall asleep without the verbal assault going on inside of his subconscious. Unsure of what had possessed him, Neal jumped out of his bed and headed straight towards his kitchen, his eyes locked onto the object that he was seeking out and with an unsure, shaky hand he reached out and grasped a hold of the handle of his kitchen knife in his right hand.

Taking a deep breath, Neal couldn’t believe what it was that he was about to do, but it was as if something else had taken over his body, some outside force had taken over control, and all he could do was stand there, fixed to the spot and watch as his own actions were completed in front of him. He needed this silence in his mind and he needed it now, he needed no emotions at all threatening to overspill and flood his senses. He needed to get to sleep desperately and this was the only option that he had to make that a possibility.

That is why Neal Caffrey found himself running the blade of the knife along his skin just underneath his shoulder blade, next to the fencing injury he had obtained earlier; he quickly and swiftly moved the blade once, then twice, then three times until there were three neat red lines underneath his previous cut. He stared down at the four lines on his arm, unsure of what he had just done to himself and what it was that caused him to take such drastic actions, however whatever confusion he felt towards the situation at hand was immediately squashed and gone as the pain in his arm took over.

The pain wasn’t too intense, it was just an annoying throbbing in his arm, but that was all that it was, just pain – physical pain only. All that his mind was focusing on and thinking about was the physical pain that was radiating in his arm. There was no shouting, no intrusive thoughts, no feelings of guilt, no self loathing, nothing except for the pulsating pain in his left arm and the warmth he felt from the blood trickling down his arm.  

Unclenching his right fist he dropped the knife onto the kitchen counter and finally for the first time in what seemed to have been an extremely long time, Neal felt a small smile creep across his face as for once, every single thing was silenced in the mind of Neal Caffrey.

It was pure bliss. 

 


End file.
